


safeguard

by sunriises



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Gen, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Trisha Elric, Scar's Brother (Fullmetal Alchemist) Lives, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Trisha Elric Lives, Worldbuilding, kind of, this fic is half-fueled by spite, why is that not a tag, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunriises/pseuds/sunriises
Summary: In one universe, Edward Elric is born the son of a myth, performs human transmutation to bring his mother back from the dead, and joins the military to regain his brother's body and his own limbs.This is not that universe. Far from it, in fact.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Trisha Elric, Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Van Hohenheim, Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Winry Rockbell, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Trisha Elric/Van Hohenheim
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	1. prelude, part i

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Give You Heaven's Vows (And Those Are Mine)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879420) by [thephilosophersapprentice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice). 



> i took xerxesian words from mostly persian and ishvalan words from mostly arabic; feel free to ask me if you want a glossary

Erfan Al-Rashidi is six years old when the people that look like Mama arrive in Kalan; from what he manages to overhear from the adults, they’re all coming from a place named Ishval, running from a war.

Apparently, the war is because a kingdom called Amest- something doesn’t like the Ishvalans. 

When he and Anil ask Amin- _ammu_ and Bahar- _eima_ about it, ‘cause Mama and Bâbâ are busy right now and Cousin Hayat and Cousin Arman are also too little to know, Xâle frowns and crosses his arms.

“It’s far from a war,” he begins. “It’s a-”

“Amin,” Eima cuts him off gently. “Wait until they’re older.”

“We’re old enough to know about war!” Erfan protests.

“I know,” she murmurs. “But this is… a different type of war.”

“Different how?” Anil asks.

“It’s…” She pauses, apparently trying to come up with an explanation. “It’s not a fair war.”

“But why?”

_Eima_ pauses again; this time, there’s something heavier in the silence.

“I don’t know.”

“Eima, why do the Ames-”

“Amestrians?”

“Yeah - why do they not like Ishvalans?”

“Because we exist,” Ammu cuts in. Eima doesn’t say anything, but she looks sadder than before.

“Well, that’s stupid,” Erfan declares, mostly to hide the way _we_ bangs around the inside of his head because Anil’s and Mama’s eyes and hair look different than his and Bâbâ’s, but Hayat and Arman don’t look the same as them, either, and it doesn’t mean anything. “You have to have a _reason_ to not like someone.”

  
  
  
  


It’s not too long after that when Mama tells them about the men in blue, one afternoon when Bâbâ’s away. Even though they hadn’t been told the specifics, the kids, at least, knew _something_ was going on: Anil’s started carrying the small stuffed cat Mama had made for him everywhere, and Hayat and Arman have been more reluctant to go to the market - and quicker to return when they are coaxed out somehow.

“Are the men in the blue the Amestrians?” Anil asks.

Mama’s eyes shut for a quick second, then open again.

“They are. But if they come here, nothing will happen to you. I promise.”

(“Do you think-” Indu-eima’s voice cracks on the words, forcing her to stop, clear her throat, and start again. “Do you think… they’ll come here?”

“No,” Hohenheim whispers, but he doesn’t sound nearly as convinced as he should. “If _he_ ’s in charge, then no. But if not-”

Hohenheim doesn’t have to continue. Instead, he redirects the conversation.

“If they do, we can at least send the children to safety.”)

(When the adults think the children are not listening, _Tatta_ curses something called alchemy, claims that all it can do is destroy.)

The men in blue - the Amestrians - do not come to Kalan, and the village begins to breathe easy again.

  
  
  


Erfan Al-Rashidi is seven (closer to six and a half) when he, alongside his brother, starts training in self-defense with Izumi Curtis. In the beginning, he and Anil agree that the weekly sessions are what tires them out the most. But it gets easier, and she’s patient with them as they learn.

  
  
  


He is eight years old when he first reads about alchemy in his father’s notes.


	2. prelude, part ii

Winry has always known that there’s something on the other side of the desert - beyond Ishval and Xing, even.

She knows it in the old photo album, in the way that Granny’s old friend - Hohenheim, she calls him - with his golden eyes and skin almost gold-tinted beneath its tan, can’t be Amestrian or Ishvalan or Xingese.

She knows it in the heavy black lines, clearly meant to hide information from her and Granny, marring the last letter they got from Mom and Dad before the news of their deaths reached Resembool; even at her young age, she knows that if the letter had been a simple “We’re coming home soon” (although that in and of itself would have been ironic and so, so _painful_ ), the censors wouldn’t have taken to redacting information.

Even at her young age, she knows: the military only hides information that makes it look bad.

Winry has always known that there’s something on the other side of the desert beyond Ishval and Xing, and she’s always known that Amestris doesn’t want its citizens to know that.

\---

She confirms it with Mister Hohenheim’s arrival, one summer day when she has just turned eight.

He looks for Mom and Dad first, when he has seen her and Granny. He doesn’t find them.

He doesn’t apologize. Granny tells him not to.

(Neither her nor Granny want the weight of another meaningless apology.)

There are letters in his suitcase, she discovers quickly, and the characters they’re written in, some of which almost look Amestrian, are vaguely familiar, but she’s not entirely sure from where.

“They’re from my sons, Edward and Alphonse. They’re your age.”

Edward. Alphonse.

Even more proof that something is out there.

\---

“Can you tell me a story?” She asks on his first visit the year she turns nine. 

“Have you heard of Icarus?” He begins after a long silence. When she shakes her head, he continues: “There’s a reason he became a myth.”

“What was it?”

“His father, Daedalus, built two pairs of wax wings for the two of them, and-”

“Why?”

“They were being kept prisoner, and Daedalus decided that the wings were their best chance of escaping. He warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun, lest-”

“Lest?”

“Lest means ‘just in case’.” He continues where he left off. “He warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun, just in case the wax in the wings melted from the heat.”

“But he did?”

“But he did.” Mister Hohenheim confirms.

“Why?”

The look on the elder man’s face is almost impossible to read in its intricacy. “Maybe he trusted Daedalus to catch him.”

  
  


\---

(She is ten when she decides.)

Life goes on: she goes to school, helps Granny out with designing automail, plays with the neighbors’ kids, smiles, laughs, does not let their pain - or their secrets - show.

Some days, when she plucks those memories from her mind like they are fragments of glass, the smaller details blur until she knows she cannot be trusted to point at one and say _yes, this is real_ or _no, this is fake_.

But even without the details, the structure has remained.

Mister Hohenheim, Edward, Alphonse.

Winry has always known that there is something on the other side of the desert, beyond Ishval and Xing.

And so she will find it: if not now, then someday.


End file.
